Pleasure by Proxy

"Anthony, wake up!! Movie's done," Sonya said, shaking me awake.

I woke up and saw the ending credits of the indie movie we had downloaded moving up the screen.

"Oh, Sonya, I'm sorry," I told her, groggily. "Guess I was pretty tired."

"That's okay, it wasn't that great...you seen one zombie movie, you've seen 'em all," Sonya said, turning off the big screen TV. She maneuvered her wheelchair and started toward the kitchen, then stopped, turning it back towards me.

"Oh, my mother wants to talk to you before you go home. She told me to make sure you talk to her - go knock on her door."

"What about?" I asked, furiously wracking my brain for anything I'd done wrong. I couldn't think of anything.

"She wants to tell you herself," Sonya said, mysteriously.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked, worriedly.

Sonya smiled. "Definitely NOT in trouble."

"So you know what she's going to say?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I know," Sonya said, nodding her head slowly.

"You can't give me a hint?" I asked.

"Just go see my mother," Sonya said. "She's waiting to talk to you."

"Okay, I'm going," I said. "One hint?"

Exasperated, Sonya shook her head.

"No hints," she told me, firmly. "I will tell you one thing, though."

"What?" I asked

"You'll probably like what she has to say - that's all I'm going to say about it," Sonya said.

"I'll go," I told her. "You want to come?"

"Nope," Sonya said. "I'm going to bed. I'm so tired."

As if to prove her point, Sonya yawned hugely. I watched her stretch, her muscular arms reaching up as high as she could reach.

"Okay, I'll let myself out when we're done talking," I assured her. "Go get some rest."

I walked over to her and bent down to kiss her. Sonya wrapped her arms around my neck and returned the kiss, her lips soft against mine, her mouth welcoming my tongue. We kissed for several more minutes; I could feel my cock getting hard in my jeans.

"Wow," Sonya said, as we pulled apart. She was as affected by the kiss as I was. From her wheelchair, Sonya's line of sight was just a little above crotch level. She recognized my plight immediately. She reached out her hand and stroked my hard-on through the denim. I let out a sigh of pleasure and closed my eyes. Sonya continued rubbing me for another minute or so and then stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at down at her face. Sonya was staring at my bulging fly with a wistful, sad expression. When she looked up and saw me watching her, her smile brightened and all traces of sadness disappeared.

"Go see my mom," Sonya said. "NOW."

"Okay, I'm going, I'm going...! Goodnight," I said. "I'll be back around five tomorrow," I told her, glancing at my watch. It was almost midnight.

"Goodnight...see you tomorrow," she said cheerily as she wheeled her chair around my and rolled down the hallway to her bedroom. I watched the wheels disappear into her bedroom, and the bedroom door shut behind her.

I stopped in the bathroom to take a leak and splash some cold water on my face. I wanted to be completely cool before I talked to Sonya's mom. It wouldn't look so great to march in her room with my dick sticking straight out of my crotch, I thought. I looked in the mirror critically and smoothed my dark hair from over my eyes. I looked decent, I figured. People looked at me all the time because I was good looking: Wavy, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, a regular nose, a square jaw and full lips - I was told I looked like a young Warren Beatty. Girls stared, some of them bold enough to hand me their phone numbers before running off to giggle with their friends. Since I'd gotten my license last year, I'd met and screwed a dozen of these empty-headed little fluffs. I'd gotten pretty tired of meeting girls - most of them were shallow, materialistic, stupid or just little bitches. I looked down. My hard-on had deflated the crotch of my jeans back to normal.

I washed my hands, my mind full of Sonya. I'd met her at the downtown library. Sonya was incredibly lovely, her strawberry blonde hair cut short like a pixie, framing her delicate features, her dark blue eyes that looked around her with lively interest, and often, amusement. As I drew closer to her, I could see that her skin that was dusted liberally with freckles. I'd been compelled to talk to her. And I did.

"So, how much longer until you can get out of that chair?" I'd asked, with my most charming smile.

She'd looked up at me, bemused.

"Never," she said. "I'm paralyzed from the chest down."

She said that so pleasantly, that I wasn't sure what I'd heard.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"I'm paralyzed," she repeated, louder. "So, never."

I'd stuck my foot in my mouth, I realized.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, "It's just that you look so pretty, so positive-looking, you know - " I stopped myself from further idiocy.

"That you didn't think I could be a paraplegic?" she asked, without rancor.

"Well, yeah," I said. "Stupid assumption."

Time for her to turn tail and escape, I thought. Idiot!

"No problem," she said, putting her hand out. "By the way, I'm Sonya."

I grabbed her hand and kissed it. Corny, I know, but it felt right.

"Anthony, book freak and library geek," I said, making an expansive arm gesture at the bookshelves all around us.

I shook my head, ruefully, I'd become so enthralled with this little fairy that I had to cart around her wheelchair every place we went, put her in the chair, take her back out of the chair, check her catheter levels...and it was all so very worth it. I had never met anyone like Sonya. Smart. Intelligent. Funny. Positive. Open. Fun-loving.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I headed to the room across from Sonya's and knocked.

"Mrs. Lebedev?" I spoke through the door.

The door opened, and Sonya's mom ushered me into her bedroom. Mrs. Lebedev was definitely an attractive woman - and she knew it. I guessed she was in her early 40s or so, but she looked younger. She was tiny, like her daughter, barely reaching my chin. Her hair was a pale blonde, but her eyes were the same dark blue as Sonya's. But, where Sonya was tiny everywhere, her mother was voluptuous. She was wearing a long t-shirt that was snug over her breasts and only fell to mid-thigh. I felt my cock stirring in my pants. Panicking, I thought if the most horrific and gruesome thoughts I could summon. War, corpses, people on fire, piranhas feasting, tarantulas...I let out a small sigh of relief as I could feel my erection fail.

"Hello, Anthony...thank you for coming to talk to me," Mrs. Lebedev said in her heavy Russian accent. She sat on the ottoman in the corner of her room. "Please, sit down for a moment so we can talk a little." She gestured to the chair directly in front of the ottoman.

I walked to the chair and sat down and she swiveled around to talk to me. She was uncomfortably close to me, her knees almost touching mine.

"I guess you've been wondering what I wanted to talk to you about?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Yes, I've been wondering...although Sonya told me I wasn't in trouble or anything," I said.

Mrs. Lebedev laughed.

"Oh, no, not in trouble...! In fact, is just the opposite." Mrs. Lebedev beamed at me. "I just want to tell you I'm happy you are seeing my daughter. Sonya has not had many boyfriends. Is hard for her to be in wheelchair. Not many boys want to go out with girl in wheelchair."

I nodded, sympathetically.

"But, YOU...you have been very good to my daughter. You take her places. She is much, much happier since she has met you," Mrs. Lebedev said, earnestly.

"Well, I'm happy to hear that," I said, feeling self-conscious from all the praise. "Sonya's an amazing girl."

"Yes, she is. But if nobody is interested in girl who is handicapped, nobody finds out what a beautiful girl she is. Except for you. YOU." Mrs. Lebedev said again.

I smiled, but said nothing.

"In fact, when Sonya went to visit her father, she told him about you," he mother went on.

I stiffened. Her father? All I knew about Sonya's father was that he was with the Russian mob or something.

"I hope it was GOOD things," I joked, weakly.

"Of course, only GOOD things," Mrs. Lebedev assured me. "But Sonya's father is - let's say - protective of her. So he got some information about you and asked around."

I felt a momentary stab of fear and then squelched it. I hadn't done anything to worry about, I thought. I HOPED.

"He said you seem to be good guy," Mrs. Lebedev assured me. "He told me to tell you to take Sonya to meet him on Wednesday night. He will be at the club. Sonya will tell you how to get there. At 7:00."

"Oh, okay...I'll be happy to meet him," I said. "But, Sonya doesn't talk much about him, I don't know much about him. What's he like, Mrs. Lebedev?"

"Call me Daria," she said. "Please."

"Thank you - umm, Daria," I said.

"What is he like?" her face turned somber. "Is hard for me to describe. He loves Sonya very much. But he can be hard man. His work..." she trailed off.

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

"Maybe I can describe him another way," she told me, slowly. "Do you know why Sonya is in wheelchair? Why she is paralyzed for rest of her life?"

"Well, she told me she was shot in the spine when she was eight years old. When she was playing outside," I said.

"That is what happened," Daria said. "Did she tell you anything else?"

"No, that's all she said," I said.

"Well, what happened is that my older brother, Alex - you have not met him - anyway, my older brother was mixed up with bad people. You know," she said, looking at me.

I nodded.

"Anyway, my older brother owed money that he could not pay back. My husband let him stay with us even though he did not approve of him. But, because he was my brother, he permitted him to live in the basement," Daria paused a moment, remembering. "The day she was shot, I was at the grocery store. I left Sonya with my brother. And while I was gone, those men came for my brother...he managed to hide from them..."

"But Sonya did not," I finished for her.

"Right," Daria said. "Sonya got shot in the spine and was paralyzed. When I came home, police said they'd already taken her to hospital. I called my husband and told him what happened. He met me at hospital. He was very angry with me. He said it was my fault Sonya was paralyzed. Because I asked to have my brother live with us."

Daria stopped talking, lost in her memories. I stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt. She started up again.

"Anyway, Viktor - Sonya's father - had had my brother picked up and they beat him. Almost to death. It took him months to heal, but he is okay. But he moved out of state," Daria said. "That was Alex's punishment. For ME, I had different punishment. First, Viktor told me he was divorcing me and taking custody of Sonya..."

I murmured sympathetically, not knowing what to say.

"And second...second..." Daria said, slowly, "second, he had me put into a brothel for four years. I could not leave. I had many, many customers. In four years...many, many customers."

I was speechless with horror for the poor woman. I patted her knee.

"But, that was my punishment, and I deserved it for not watching out for our daughter. For letting this horrible injury ruin her for life," Daria said, her voice sounding firmer. "Anyway, that is the kind of man Viktor is. He loves Sonya and is very protective of her. So when you meet him on Wednesday, just be honest and be respectful. You are doing very good to make her happy, very, very good."

"Thank you for telling me this," I told her, gently. "It is helpful for me to know that and to make sure I act properly on Wednesday."

"Yes, I am sure you will. Viktor will be good to you as long as you are good to Sonya. And I don't see any reason for you to worry," Daria said. "And, also, Anthony, Viktor can be very generous when it will benefit Sonya...so don't be surprised if he gives many gifts to you."

"Really...?" I mused.

"Oh, yes," Daria said. "I didn't tell you that story about Sonya's father to scare you."

"Oh?" I laughed. "Well, it did. A bit," I admitted.

"Actually, I told you that story to explain the real reason I asked you to talk to me tonight," she said.

"So, Sonya's father isn't the real reason," I said.

"No," Daria said.

Then she was silent for a few moments.

"I love my daughter. I spent those four years taking my punishment and waiting to get out again to see her. Viktor filed for joint custody when I came home. He has never referred to those years. But he has never come back, either. But he was kind enough to let me stay in this house and let me have my daughter back..." she said. "It has been hard for her, to be paralyzed. To have to be in wheelchair all the time. She has not had many friends. And you are the first boyfriend who has been patient with her. It's not easy to have to bring her wheelchair and lift her all the time. And boys - well, why go through all the trouble of having a handicapped girlfriend? They do not stay for long."

Daria grabbed my hands in hers and looked me in the eye.

"I am thankful to see my daughter so happy. It is because of you. I have never seen her this happy since she was eight years old. Almost a decade...!" Daria said, her voice husky with emotion. "I will do anything to keep her happy."

Daria had pulled my hands closer to her until they were clasped on her lap.

"Another reason Sonya's boyfriends leave her is because they cannot have sex with her," she said, her eyes still locked with mine.

I looked away, embarrassed. I had been frustrated, as well, but I had dealt with it as best I could. Porn, lotion and my hand.

"It is important, sex is important. THAT I know. Especially with young men. That is all that is on their minds, most of the time. Sex, sex, and more sex. And if they can't have sex with Sonya, they will find it somewhere else," Daria said, matter-of-factly.

I was beginning to understand where she was going with all this.

"I don't want her to lose YOU because of sex," Daria said. "I learned lots of things during those four years. I became very good at pleasing my customers. I learned to enjoy my work, even."

Daria pulled my hands toward her until they were under her night shirt and pressed against the moist heat of her crotch. She was not wearing panties.

"Sonya and I have talked about this. She knows what I am offering to you. And why. She agrees with me that it will be a good thing for you to be able to have sex if you are my boyfriend. Even if it is with me instead of Sonya," Daria said.

She was slowly grinding her pussy against my hand, now. My cock was fully hard, now, and straining against my jeans.

"So, Anthony, I know it is my daughter that you care for...but would this be an acceptable situation for you? To have sex with me?"

Oh, more than acceptable, I thought, lust clouding my thoughts. But, still, I couldn't do that. Could I? No, I couldn't do that. I had to decline. I extricated my hands from between her thighs, regretfully.

"Of course it would be acceptable, Mrs. Lebedev - " I started.

"DARIA," she insisted.

" - Daria." I said. "But I care about Sonya. I don't HAVE to have sex with her. And you don't have to have sex with me to keep me seeing her. I've been here for the last three months - I'm not going anywhere. I can take care of myself. You know..."

Daria laughed, a throaty, sexy laugh that sent a chill down my spine and electrified my groin.

"Anthony, it is not a - umm, how do you say it? - a SACRIFICE for me to have sex with you. It would be a pleasure for me as well as for you...I don't offer this only because I feel that I HAVE to. I also WANT to. And I am much better than you taking care of yourself," Daria said, seductively. "Or, is it that you don't find me attractive?"

"Of course I do," I said. "You're very attractive. And I would like to, but -"

"That's more like it," Daria interrupted, putting her fingers against my lips.

"Yes, but -"I said, before she shushed me again.

Daria stood up in front of me and pulled her nightshirt over her head. She stood completely naked only inches away. Her breasts were large, but firm, the pink tips perkily erect and pointing straight ahead. Her waist was small, just the barest hint of stretch marks to reveal she'd ever borne a child. Her hips were narrow, but voluptuously rounded. Daria reached for my hands again and this time, she placed them one upon each of her breasts. They did not fit in my hands, they were too big. I felt her nipples hardening even more under my palms.

"Is nice, Anthony," Daria murmured, allowing me to caress her breasts a little longer.

Daria grabbed my hands again, pressing them against her breasts while she sunk to her knees between my legs. She released my hands and started working my belt and pants. In a moment, my rock-hard shaft popped out of its restraints.

Daria smiled at the sight.

"Ah, you are very blessed, aren't you, Anthony?" she teased, grasping the shaft cock in her right hand. "A nice cock. Eighteen years old, yes? A very nice cock."

Daria leaned down and I could feel her tongue move up and down my taut skin, front, back, left, right, she lapped at my balls, then sucked them into her mouth, slowly and lovingly. I closed my eyes and let Daria work her oral magic on me. She was not kidding. I felt sensations down there I'd never even knew existed. When she slipped the tip of her tongue into my ass, I started and tried to scoot back, but she held unto my ass cheeks and dove in even deeper.

"MmmHhhmm," she mumbled into my backside. Along with her comforting strokes upon my buttocks, I figured she was trying to tell me to relax. So, I did. And experienced such pleasure at the touch of her tongue and lips on every inch of flesh down there that I was thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

Daria must have spent at least a half an hour servicing me with her lips and talented tongue, bringing me to the brink of orgasm, then slowly dialing it down again several times. I barely knew my name by the time she clambered atop my lap and lowered herself onto my shaft. Immediately, the muscles inside of her began rippling, lightning fast, upward then downward, like a concert pianist performing arpeggios on the piano. I gasped aloud as her pussy squeezed and loosened its grip on my imprisoned cock.

Finally, I could no longer stand the intense pleasure. I gripped her hips, stood up, turned around and placed her ass on the armchair, draping her legs over my shoulders. I thrust deeply inside of her grasping cunt, each stroke harder than the one before. I was gratified to hear her harsh breathing, her incoherent words urging me on.

Finally, she let out a long, rising moan and climaxed, her pussy pulsing around my shaft and triggering my own orgasm. I groaned loudly and pumped my seed into Daria, shuddering as I filled her cunt with my sperm. As I emptied the last spurt of jism into her, I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slippery, slick with sweat.

The full length of my body was stretched out on Daria's tiny form as we lie together, exhausted and breathless.

I heard the familiar sounds of wheels crossing the floor. I turned my head to see Sonya approaching us. Quickly, I slipped my flaccid cock out of her mother's sopping pussy and sat up, smoothing my sweat-soaked hair back from my face. Next to me, Daria was also settling into a sitting position and watching her daughter.

Daria was telling me the truth, right? Sonya was okay with me fucking her mother? The question, now, seemed ludicrous. How could she be okay? I scanned Sonya's face, but her expression was unreadable. Sonya stopped right in front of us. I felt the need to babble out apologies and explanations and throw myself at her mercy.

"Sonya, I -" I began.

Sonya reached out and grabbed my slimy, soft cock in her right hand, squeezing it almost painfully in her grip. She watched my reaction.